The Ottoman Motel (25 page)

Tarden fumbled the keys, jangling them so loudly that he imagined someone hearing them all the way across town. It wasn't just the darkness making him clumsy. His head buzzed from beer, pissed off a few drinks. They'd dragged all his crab pots from the back of the house and Tarden cursed himself for not investing in better, lighter traps. Not that they ever had the money to spend on them. His back ached from the lifting.

‘Let me do it,' Kuiper told him, a rare strain of warmth inflecting his annoyance. Robbie placed his hands over Tarden's and together they guided the key into the lock. They hauled the first pots through the door. The metal frames shuddered over the concrete, clashing out hideous echoes. The next pot Tarden dragged in had a crab's carcass stuck to its inner edge. The acrid smell of stale sea life, the smell that haunted him. The smell of the midnight trips along the dirt track to Magpie Lake. The rotten stench of his failures.

Kuiper hit the lights and the fluorescent strips stuttered on. ‘God,' said Kuiper, hands on his hips. He had attached Madaline's holster to his belt, but it didn't fit and the gun stuck out at an alarming angle. He surveyed the room. ‘So many of the damn things.'

There it was, Tarden saw, the only doubt he'd ever seen in Robbie's eyes. The thought that maybe they'd taken things too far. It was Robbie's endless confidence rupturing, finally. Robbie, who was always ahead.

They'd been released from prison two months apart. That was always the problem, Tarden saw this now. The ever-present imbalance. Robbie getting out first, a head start, a precious few weeks out of Tarden's watch in which he had already set up their new life. Robbie had met him at the train station. He already owned a car, already looked impossibly different. His face and body had filled out; he seemed so comfortable in a world Tarden was only just remembering. In the following weeks, Tarden saw their roles reversed: Robbie was the protector now, showing him how to
live. By the time he realised he'd fallen into someone's debt, it was too late.

‘Are you sure these'll keep the cans together?' said Kuiper. ‘They won't float away?'

Tarden smiled. ‘Crabs never float away.'

‘Don't see what you're grinning at. This is our livelihood. This is our future.'

Tarden wanted to kiss him. He wanted to taste Robbie one more time. ‘Let's just get this done,' he said. ‘Sooner the better.'

Kuiper held a can in his hand, weighing it up before placing it with the others in the pot. ‘There's two boats,' he said. ‘Right?'

Tarden nodded. He had explained it three times already. The pills, he knew, were spreading their chemical confusion through Robbie's system. ‘My tinny'll be there,' Tarden said. ‘And I'll hotwire the motor on someone else's. We each take a tinny out, drop the pots from one, anchor it and take the other one back. Safe as houses.'

‘What if someone finds the boat?'

There it was: a definite tremour of anxiety. ‘We'll anchor it in the cove. No one's going to go looking there. If they do—which they won't—they'll just see a boat, nothing attached to it. We'll only need a few days I reckon, just wait for it all to blow over.'

‘Yeah,' said Kuiper, smoothing down his hair. ‘Safe as houses.'

They made their way to the end of the row. The Sawyers' car was still there, hardly hidden under the tarpaulins. ‘One of us is going to have to drive that out of here.'

Kuiper nodded. ‘Have to dump it.'

‘Have to
burn
it.' Tarden flexed his fingers. ‘Jesus. The last thing we need when we're trying not to attract attention.'

Kuiper made his way back to the door for another crab pot. ‘I said I'm sorry. I was just—'

‘Forget about it,' said Tarden. ‘We'll deal with it.' He rubbed his cheek. ‘Supposed to be a pickup next week though.'

‘I'll make some calls,' said Kuiper. ‘They'll understand.' He flashed an empty smile. They both knew the people they dealt with weren't the understanding type.

Tarden knew they'd been incredibly lucky up until now, with a constant stream of work and a small town where nothing ever happened. Perfect until something
did
happen. Tarden had got on the wrong side of these people before. Groups of paranoid men drunk on power and shit-scared of losing it. No resolutions, no compromises, only high-stakes battles that always ended in bloodshed.

It was the reason he was here, after all. The two battered bodies he could see every time he closed his eyes. The sun beating on their naked backs and the two other guys, fucking animals, sniggering, wiping their hands on the front of their pants. Adjusting identical trucker caps, spreading their legs, posturing like it was a fucking Clint Eastwood movie. And Jack—himself, still just Jack, still just a young man with his hands shaking, soft-baked bile in his mouth, the stench of soil his only connection to anything he recognised.

‘Robbie,' he said, ‘if we get out of this, we're going to make changes. Scale all this back. We don't need this.'

Kuiper turned around. ‘How do you propose we do that,' he said, ‘when it barely works now?'

‘Shut up for one sec. We've got to get you clean. You've been skimming off the top, handing out samples.'

‘That's fucking—'

‘No, I know you have. And you wonder why nothing ever adds up. I won't even ask how long you and Megan—' Tarden waved away his thoughts.

Kuiper stared at him. ‘Like you say, Jack. If we get out of this.' He hitched a knot tight at the top of a pot.

Tarden wiped a slick of sweat from his brow. A pain shot up his side as he collected a can from the lowest shelf. Just get through it, he thought. Was this the best he could hope for now?

Audrey had taken it well, Simon thought. Dredging up her
mother's disappearance, telling her Madaline's secret, what Kuiper and Tarden were doing under the noses of the town.

She had just sat at the table, a calm look on her face, even when Simon admitted he and Pony had broken into Madaline's house. Pony let Simon do the talking. He got up and boiled the kettle again, heated the milk, made Audrey a hot chocolate. She seemed surprised by Pony's generosity. Simon wasn't. He knew Pony was a decent person beneath his bluster. Audrey seemed to relax as Simon finished telling her what he knew; perhaps she was just as glad of the revelations.

But then a car's headlights swept across the wall, its engine rumbling to a stop, and her face grew suddenly serious. She got up from the table and went over to the window.

‘Dad's home.' She clambered up onto the bench, tweed coat and all, pushing aside Ned's herbs to get a better look. Suddenly, she slammed her hand against the glass. She dropped down off the bench and made for the doorway.

‘Where are you going?' said Simon.

‘I've got to talk to Dad.'

‘Are you sure you're okay?'

She turned around. ‘I'm fine, Simon,' she said. ‘My life's just fine.' She stamped off down the hall.

Pony didn't move from the table. He looked down into his mug of hot chocolate as Simon got up quickly and followed her.

Simon had reached the front door just in time to see Audrey fling herself at Ned's car, hammering her palm at the driver's window. She looked like a spectre in the darkness: just a white head and hand in her dark coat. Simon could see Madaline in the passenger seat. Then Ned got out of the car and put his arm around Audrey, trying to calm her down. Madaline stayed where she was.

‘She's not real!' shouted Audrey, pointing into the car. ‘She couldn't find Mum because she's not real!'

‘Audrey, hold on,' Ned began.

‘There are criminals in the town and—and she doesn't do anything about it!'

Simon saw Madaline's face through the drizzle, inside the car, frozen in horror. He felt the first trickle of remorse at the base of his throat.

‘I think we're all a bit tired,' said Ned. ‘Why don't we get out of the rain and I'll make us some dinner and—'

‘You don't even care about your own family! You can't even tell us the truth!' Audrey's body collapsed. She crumpled into Ned's arms, retreating from angry ghost to sobbing child in a matter of moments.

Ned held her, rubbed her back. ‘I don't know what's happened,' he said. ‘I don't know where you've got this from, but it sounds like you've got things a bit mixed up.' Ned raised his eyes, picked out Simon in the light of the front door. ‘Simon,' he said. ‘Do you know what's going on here?'

Simon nodded, despite himself. ‘Pony and I went to Madaline's house.' He shot a quick look at Madaline, who was getting out of the car. ‘We…we went
into
her house. But we didn't break anything. She keeps the keys in the same place as you.' Ned looked at him quizzically. ‘We went through some of the files.'

Madaline looked pale. She put one hand on the car roof. ‘The files?' There seemed no anger in her voice, just a deep resignation.

‘Yes,' Simon said, ‘but we were only trying to find out about my…my parents.' Simon knew he couldn't mention the drugs. He could hear Pony's croaky voice in his head.

‘You went through Madaline's house?' said Ned. ‘Without her knowing?' He sounded far more indignant than Madaline had.

‘Just in the living room. We just looked at the files. Nowhere else.' He turned to Madaline. ‘We're not robbers.'

‘What on earth where you thinking?' said Ned. ‘Breaking into someone's…? I thought better of you quite frankly Simon.'

Heat rose in Simon's chest. His scars prickled. He was sick of being blamed for what he did, what he
didn't
do. ‘I want to find my mum and dad!' he shouted. ‘No one else except Pony is doing anything to help me. They could be out there, waiting for someone to rescue them, and nothing's being done. If there were real police here, then—' Simon let his words trail off.

Ned turned to Madaline. ‘What's he talking about?'

Madaline blew a lungful of air through her lips and shook her head.

‘She resigned,' said Simon. ‘We saw her letter. She's not a real police officer.'

‘You saw—' Ned removed his hands from Audrey's shoulders.

Simon sensed someone at his side. Pony, holding something in his hands. It took Simon a moment to realise it was the can. The drugs. Simon shot him a wide-eyed look, but Pony dropped his gaze.

Madaline shook her head. ‘I did write a letter,' she said, ‘but I never sent it.' She bit her lip. ‘I wanted to. Ned, I wanted to. I didn't think I deserved to keep my job after—'

Pony walked forward. ‘This.' He held up the can for everyone to see. ‘This was why me and Simon broke into Madaline's house.'

Madaline regarded Pony flatly. ‘A can of fruit?'

‘It's not just fruit, actually.' Pony passed the can to her, across the bonnet of the car. With a frown, she reached inside. ‘Ugh!' She pulled her hand out, examining her sticky fingers.

Pony shook his head. ‘There's a bag.'

Madaline reached back in and pulled out the bag. It was still covered in syrup but she took off the bulldog clip and opened it. ‘What the hell?' She took a small flashlight from her pocket. Her expression hardened. ‘Where did you get these from?'

‘A storeroom,' Pony said. ‘Belonging to Jack Tarden and Robert Kuiper. We saw them.'

‘A storeroom?'

‘At their house. A big shed. There's hundreds of cans like this.'

‘What is it?' said Ned.

Madaline swallowed. She held out the bag. ‘High-grade amphetamines by the looks.' She stared straight at Pony. ‘You're telling me there are more of these cans?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Lots more.'

‘And you're saying you saw Mr Tarden and Mr Kuiper with the cans? You're telling me these cans belong to them?'

‘Yes,' said Simon. ‘They have a key for the storeroom, and there's machinery and everything.'

‘I told you, Dad,' said Audrey. ‘I told you there were criminals.'

‘They've got—' Simon couldn't find his voice. Everyone looked at him. ‘In the shed. I think…they have my parents' car.'

‘What?' Pony spoke first. ‘Where?'

‘At the end of the shed. It was covered with sheets, but I recognised the tyres.'

‘Simon,' said Madaline. ‘Are you
sure
it was your parents' car?'

‘It had the same tyres. I couldn't see the rest of it.'

‘Christ.' Madaline stared at the ground for a moment. She looked back up, an anger in her eyes. ‘All right,' she said. ‘Ned, I'll need you to drive me back to the Ottoman. I'll get my car and head out to Tarden and Kuiper's place.' She looked at the drugs again. ‘I've got to get back to my car and get my radio.'

Ned turned around. ‘I'm going to need you guys to stay here, okay? I'll be back in a minute, but I want you all to go into the house and stay there.'

Audrey nodded. ‘Come on boys,' she said, ushering Simon and Pony indoors with her wide black sleeves. ‘We've got to get inside.'

There was a look in Audrey's eyes that Simon had not seen before. A fire, perhaps. An impossible spark.